April 16, 1945
by loveboylove
Summary: He was here so long ago and yet I still feel his presence beside me...Still here as I walk around my empty house. GerIta in the end of WWII.


**Good morning everyone! :) Another little story dedicated to my good friend YamiHeart for her love of angsty GerIta stuff. Quick note: I'm pretty sure the Battle of Berlin started on April 16 but all the sites I went to each had a different date so if you know the actual date I'd be glad to change it! ^^**

**I don't own Hetalia. boyxboy**

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><p>Sleep receded into the darkest corners of the blonde's mind as Germany stirred into wakefulness. His alarm clock had shattered the softness of his dream and sent it away in flight like a startled bird. Groggily, he rolled over and silenced the screaming machine before pushing himself up to sitting.<p>

_"Ve~" a tired voice on the other side of the bed said. Springs creaked as the Italian man sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Good morning Ludwig," Italy said happily before kissing the other._

Standing, Germany headed to the bathroom. Stepping under the warm shower spray, he washed himself and removed the last traces of sleep from his brain and from his skin. Toweling off his hair with one hand, he dried the rest of his body off with another towel before wrapping the soft cloth around his waist and heading back to the bedroom.

_Bumping into the door as it opened, Italy giggled as he rubbed his nose with the hand not carrying his pile of clothes to the shower. "Oops," he said then stretched up on his toes to kiss the other's cheek. He had the decency to put on a shirt far too large on him (as he still slept naked) before venturing into the rest of the house._

Germany carefully buttoned up his military uniform over the iron cross necklace his brother had given him. Critically inspecting his shiny black boots for dust, he sat back down on the bed before pulling them over his feet and legs. After he had tucked his pant legs into the tops of the boots, the blond fixed the bed until it was as neat as the rest of his house.

_Bouncing back into the room, Italy, now fully clothed, plopped down on the made bed and stuck his feet into brown shoes. His tongue poking out from between his lips in concentration, the Italian slowly tied his shoelaces and then smiled brightly at both feet. "Hey, hey, look Ludwig! I tied them just right today!" He proudly lifted up his legs to show off his work. Nodding to himself, the auburn haired man slipped out of the room after stealing another kiss. "Breakfast~!" he sang happily._

Removing the dirty laundry to its proper basket, the German went back into the bathroom and carefully slicked his hair back so his fringe wouldn't get in his eyes and distract him. As he turned away, a piece of hair fell back down to tickle his left eye. Frowning in annoyance, Germany again slicked back the rebellious hair to lay down with the others. Satisfied that it wouldn't fall back down, the blond made his way to the kitchen.

_Humming cheerfully to himself, the Italian flipped over a pancake. "Ah Ludwig~!" he called out, "Would you mind setting the table please?" Dancing around the kitchen, the man poured two steaming cups of coffee before spinning around to turn off the stove. Bringing over a plate with a large stack of the cakes to the table, Italy plopped the freshest one on the other's plate. "Gotta keep our strength up~"_

Quickly devouring his breakfast, Germany washed and dried all the dishes before scrubbing his counters to make sure there was no residual mess. Satisfied that everything was as clean as humanly possible, the German dried his hands off with the towel next to the sink. Straightening his tie one final time, he began to walk towards the door.

_"Wait~!" Italy called after the retreating form. He darted to the refrigerator and withdrew two brown paper bags and handed one over. "You almost forgot your lunch silly," he said laughing. Tilting his head up, he smiled prettily. "I love you Ludwig."_

Turning away from the door, the blond walked slowly back and stepped into the living room. He was going to be late. He knew that and yet he couldn't resist one final thing. Lowering himself down onto the couch, Germany's finger hesitated over the answering machine's replay button. Closing his eyes, the German pressed downward in one decisively quick motion.

"You have one saved message," the mechanical woman's voice echoed through the house. "First saved message."

A silence fell. There was a small crackling from the machine and quiet voices mumbling in the background before one voice started speaking coherently.

"Ludwig."

The silence fell yet again and with his eyes closed, Germany imagined he could see the scene on the other end of the phone, see Italy drawing in a shaky breath to continue speaking.

"I-I'm so sorry Ludwig. My brother gave up and my b-boss isn't here anymore. The Allies have t-taken Italy." Here Germany thought he could hear a small sob. "I'm with America and England now in Rome. A-America has his gu-n to my head so I don't say exactly where."

In the background, the blond heard the American's now strained voice say, "Hey Germany."

"I was just calling," Italy continued, "To say that…that…" And now the tears and audible sobs did come. They were quiet, probably muffled by one of his hands but they could still be heard.

He tried to start again. "Even though the war is over for-for me, it's not for you yet Ludwig. I just want you to know that I'll b-be praying for you. And no matter w-what happens, I'll always love Ludwig and-" but here the space to leave a message ran out.

A dull silence filtered back into the room. The machine beeped and then said, "The recording you have been listening to is from September 8, 1943 at 12:30 am. To replay this message, press the play key. To delete this message, the delete key. To-"

Germany unplugged the machine. Slowly he stood and gathered a brown paper bag to his chest from its place beside him on the coffee table. Picking up his gun, he slung the weapon over his shoulder to quickly so that the barrel of the gun hit the bag and sent it to the ground. There was the sound of shattering glass and Germany slowly knelt to the ground and lifted out the bag's contents.

Photographs appeared in his hands. Some were framed but were now missing their glass cases, others with the glass still sticking to them but cracked. They all showed the same persons: Italy napping under a tree during training, Italy swimming in the ocean when they were stranded on the island, Italy holding a kitten and showing it to a surprised Germany, Italy holding Germany's hand as they walked through some town, Italy kissing Germany's cheek at a long ago festival, and more.

His hands faltering slightly, the German man slowly repacked the photos back into their bag before picking it up again. Turning, he made his way to the front door and glanced backwards one final time.

"I'll be home soon."

After he left, the house was empty. No one was napping on the sofa, or cooking pasta in the kitchen, or dancing to the radio. No one was left to do any of those things for the one that once did them was long gone. And yet, the wind sighed in through one of the windows and fluttered the curtains. Was that the sound of laughter? And a soft scent drifted on the breeze and filtered into the silent house.

_"Ludwig, Ludwig~!" _the wind sang into the rooms.

And it smelled of pasta and long ago sunlit days.

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><p><strong>There are a couple subtle things in this story: Germany's hair falling to the left side (like Italy's hair curl) and his gun smashing the photos glass (representing how his war broke them apart). <strong>

**Compliments and constructive criticism are well received! Thanks for reading!**

**Later! ^^**

**-loveboylove  
><strong>


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